


Ivory Tower

by Smritz



Series: The Handbook of Lawlight Crossovers [3]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Light Is Not Kira, Damsels in Distress, Death Note is the Ultimate Weapon, Eventual L/Yagami Light, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Gamemaker, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, M/M, Minor Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl, Prisoner of War, Romance, Star-crossed, but kinda still is?, lawlight, playing god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smritz/pseuds/Smritz
Summary: When one child is plucked from each district and thrown into the Hunger Games, everything in the Arena is controlled by Gamemakers.And what better Gamemaker than a man with a Death Note?Kira emerging with his notebook of death in the depths of the Capitol’s underbelly ensured its victory over the Districts. The Hunger Games are in full swing with Panem’s favourite prisoner Light Yagami in the driver’s seat. When he said he wanted to be God of the New World, he hadn’t meant this.So yes, it was bad enough before L decided to traipse onscreen with his stupid grin and sweet tooth and his minimal odds of survival. How is Light supposed to save his life and survive the fallout?





	1. The Tower Circenses

Light had always thought his position on the highest floor of the Tower Circenses was an ironical choice.

It was a beautiful room, that was to be sure. Silken sheets, blindingly white walls, blood-red drapes and pillows fluffier than the green cotton candy they sold back in Marble Park in District One (oh, he missed having Sayu nag him to spend his allowance treating her to cotton candy. He never thought he would, but having the freedom to go anywhere…he didn’t dare think about it anymore than he already did).

He was grateful. He spent a great amount of his day being grateful. Where he had lived before had been terrible, absolute poverty in the Districts no matter where his father’s job as a Peacekeeper moved them. He had spent time in District One, Three, Five and Eleven, with Eleven being the absolute worst, no electricity half the time, forget running water and basic hygiene.

District Five had been where he had spent the longest time, some four years, just before he moved to One. He caught himself missing the place sometimes, the large factories spilling thick smoke into the air, the gravel streets and…the people.

One person.

He still made Light smile sometimes on the bad days, on the days when the boredom caught up with him and he wanted to launch himself off the balcony, getting caught in the force field in complete agony until Snow rescued him and put him in solitary confinement for two months.

Light shook his head as he threw the covers off of his bed, climbing out in his silky nightclothes and checking the time on the alarm clock Snow had so generously provided him with a couple days ago. He didn’t know how he had spent so much of time without telling time, but with the Reaping so close (it was today), the President was feeling generous.

The President needed Light to be happy. After all, for the next month or so, it would be Light’s time to shine. Light’s _only_ time to shine. The rest of the year he spent confined to the Tower Circenses, too valuable to be allowed to actually live.

Not that Light saw any real value in what he was doing.

There was so much more he could be doing with the Death Note, so much more than petty executions and useless spying missions, and especially the waste of time that the Hunger Games were.

Light wished he had never found the Death Note that day, returning from his classes to the squalid apartment in the Capitol’s main square that his father had managed to scrape up for his senior year so that he could have a diploma from a legitimate Capitol high school.

Picking the notebook up had been a mistake…but it had been so typical of him. His idiotic optimism and need to cleanse the world of the selfish people he saw every day, it was who he was. He’d just never thought he could have been caught so easily.

It was all Sayu’s fault, everything was always Sayu’s fault (no, he couldn’t blame her. If he hadn’t saved her, he would probably have succeeded at becoming the God of the New World, and with all the introspection he had been doing in this ivory tower, he realised just what a terrible thing that would have been).

He was lucky they had discovered the Death Note could only be used by one person: its owner, Light Yagami.

He had been scheduled for execution, despite his father’s repeated pleas for leniency in consideration of his age. After all, Light was just the son of a Peacekeeper born in District Two, not a Capitol citizen, and if that hadn’t been enough he had murdered several Capitol criminals escaping justice because of the corrupt system.

If he had known what a crooked man President Snow was, _he_ would probably be dead too.

But luckily (or was it so lucky?), a couple of days before he was to be given the nightlock injection, they had him test the notebook, and realised that it was only when Light’s hand wrote the names that the person on the other end obeyed his commands and died.

They had started out using him to assassinate the several leaders of the fledgling rebellion in District Eight, advertising his name as the Capitol’s greatest weapon yet.

They had him do a demonstration too, it had been sickening.

This hadn’t been why he had wanted to be the God of the New World. He wanted to create a better world, not one where he had people humiliate themselves on live television before they killed themselves.

Of course, _that_ hadn’t been enough, so they decided to create the Ultimate Hunger Games, where the tributes who were the most boring were killed off first and having everything predetermined for maximum entertainment value. That way, the tributes did more to be funny, sexy or brutal, and the Capitol got more fun out of the whole thing.

Now that the rebellion was done, this was Light’s whole job. He was the sole Gamemaker of the Hunger Games (if he didn’t count the several people keeping him under surveillance) and the Reaping was today.

They would expect him down onstage at the City Circle today, if only to stand with his head bowed as President Snow made his speech and patted him on the back.

His father would want him around too. Sayu would be standing for her own Reaping down in Two. She, and the rest of his family, despite moving all over Panem, were still citizens of the District and took a train down to the Main Square every year to attend.

While Light wasn’t allowed to leave the Tower Circenses, he was allowed to sit with his father in front of the television and watch his sister stand in the crowd and escape death every year.

It had been two years since his last reaping day in his sixteenth year (the very year they caught Kira), and he still remembered how horrifying it had been. In the flick of a piece of paper and a careless pattering of words from the ditzy escort of Two, his whole life could have been over. His ambitions, his dreams, his studies and mission, all wrenched away from him for a silly game that would most likely end in his death.

Sayu must have been terrified, and Light would like to be there for her however he could (despite her part in his current fate. He didn’t blame her, he _wouldn’t_ blame her, but nevertheless, it was Sayu Yagami who had put him in here).

Light sighed as he folded his bedsheets over the mattress and sauntered into the shower, punching buttons at random and closing his eyes as the machines washed him up. He hadn’t had luxuries like this at any point in his life…he should be grateful.

He _was_ grateful. He was alive and well, and had luxuries like this, how could he not be grateful? The machines towelled him dry and the closet opened up by itself, displaying his wide variety of clothing items: button-up shirts and jackets galore, trousers and ties, shoes and socks, as if he ever had someplace to be going.

He picked out a white shirt and cream-coloured jacket, hoping it would help him blend in with the whiter-than-white backdrop that Snow always had going for him. A quick survey of his damp auburn hair in the mirror and he was ready to be escorted down for the speech. The messenger would come in a few minutes, and the escort in approximately half an hour. He had time for breakfast, and so that was what he would have.

He ordered up a plate of whatever they had cooking, and the Avox turned up in exactly two minutes carrying an omelette and a cup of tea with sugar cubes in a tiny silver pot beside it.

He took it from her with a smile and a nod, which were both returned. She was a nice person, the Avox, and on the worst days, she was his only company, so he was grateful for that as well.

She was pretty, with her long red hair and bright blue eyes, and he could see her checking him out as she cleaned his room on the better days, on the days when he bothered to change out of his nightclothes and sit around the room instead of sulking under the covers for hours and hours.

He wished he could ignore the fact that she was a prisoner just like him but worse, the kind with her tongue mutilated and cut out, a kind of prisoner he could have been if it hadn’t been for his cooperation and charmingly pleasant manners towards the president (and the fact that he had taken out many of the president’s competitors during his reign as Kira).

“Hey, Rose?” He called out as the redhead started to leave the room. The girl turned, her blue eyes sparkling as she smiled a closed-lipped smile at him. He grinned sheepishly, holding up his omelette tray. “Do you want some?”

They monitored his meals. If he ordered any more than three he would be questioned, if he took any more than two baths a day he would be questioned, if he flung himself from the balcony he would be detained. There were rules in this place, and after two years of this he knew them all too well, as did she.

The Avox cocked her head. _Are you sure?_ He nodded, biting his lip.

“I’m...never hungry on Reaping Days. I really don’t mind sharing.”

He wanted the company, really. His father was going to be insufferable today, the President would be smug and self-satisfied, the guards would be distant and aloof. He wanted a friend around for just a few minutes before they sent for him.

Rose seemed to understand, giving him a quick nod of the head before sitting primly beside him and taking his fork, cutting into the omelette and taking a huge bite. Light chuckled at the goofy expression she made as she manoeuvred the food around her mutilated tongue. She liked to show off her handicap, it made her feel ‘special’. It was weird, yes, but he always ended up making friends with the weird ones.

With a quiet sigh, he picked up the cup of tea and threw in three lumps of sugar…

And three more, and three more.

Rose’s eyes grew wide as she watched him, and Light began to laugh. “Nine cubes of sugar is a delicacy, enjoy it while you can.”

The Avox cocked her head again, eyebrows raised. Quickly, she drew a Q and a W in the air _. Sounds like a quote. Where did you hear that?_

Light looked down into his milky tea as the sugar melted in. “Friend of mine liked to say things like that, a long time ago.”

A pause as he sipped the tea. It was disgusting, he had never really liked sweet things.

“Today’s his Reaping. It should be mine too. My last year.”

He knew she would put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He knew she would give him that faint kiss on the cheek before she put his half of the omelette on the plate and left the tray on his lap.

And he knew she would leave just seconds before the messenger arrived with an order from President Snow to be ready to be escorted in fifteen minutes.

Light polished off his omelette, wishing that flinging himself from the balcony would result in his squishing on the pavement below.


	2. Reaping Day

L wasn’t emotionally ready for today.

Sure, he may look like some sort of emotionless robot 99% of the time, but he wasn’t, okay? He was human and alive and he didn’t want to deal with his siblings weeping all over his clothes, even if it meant they were crying because of the idea of losing him.

With a  loud, aggravated sigh, the black-haired man shoved the lanky blond teenager away from him and grabbed the albino child wrapped around his feet by the scruff of his neck. “Look, Mello, Near. I get it, you don’t want me to die. But please, keep your grief to yourself. I have enough to deal with feeding you every day, I do not need this. Besides, there are several teenagers in District Five, perhaps one of them will be chosen and I will be relieved of the burden of the Reaping for the rest of my life. How about you focus on that?”

Near nodded quietly, folding into himself, but Mello burst into angry tears in response.

“L, you have _24_ entries in the Reaping, how the fuck can I focus on that? We can’t lose you!”

The older man shrugged. “Deal with it how you were before Watari came in and reminded us. Please, now, Mello, stop crying and eat your food. We will have to be in the Main Square in ten minutes.”

L had always found Reaping Day to be a tedious affair. So much drama, and for what, really? Two children were going to be plucked out of the Districts and put in an arena to fight and kill each other for no reason whatsoever. The whole idea of the Hunger Games was a stupid one, there were several better ways to keep the Districts in line (such as a better social structure, for one), if only President Coriolanus Snow was open-minded enough to see it (he wasn’t).

L wished he wasn’t a factory worker in the underbelly of District Five. Working with mechanics was hell on his back, he had always been a more cognitive person. As a child, he had dreamed of being a Peacekeeper, but a _special_ Peacekeeper, one who found out how people committed crimes and predicted the criminals’ next moves.

He had said as much to a friend years ago, the son of a Peacekeeper. L had never had many friends…but that one, Light Yagami, had been a true one. He had proved as much when, the minute he’d heard L’s dream, he had proceeded to plan out a detailed scheme by which the two of them would become crime-fighting Peacekeepers independent of the Capitol, with all the sugar and apples they could eat (what? They were fourteen!).

Luckily, L didn’t have to bother missing him (he did anyway) because his face was plastered over the Main Square, graffitied onto abandoned buildings and fraying from random old posters inside the factories. Trust L to have been friends with Kira, the Capitol’s Ultimate Weapon and Death Sentence to the Rebellion.

He didn’t know what had happened in the two years since Light Yagami had moved away to District One, but in that time he had achieved a damn lot more than L had. While L had been struggling to get a job in the factory to support his two leeches, Light had somehow managed to not only gain the godlike powers over death, use it to mass-murder Capitol (and District) criminals escaping punishment, but also got himself captured by the Capitol and used to smother the flames of the rebellion of the Districts (or so the Capitol thought).

The rumours surrounding Kira were mixed. Some called him a Capitol lapdog, a traitor to the Districts, and others called him the Districts’ only hope. After all, a District-born boy with the power to control the circumstances of anybody’s death with the flick of a pen, how could he not be their only hope?

In the first few months since the dramatic assassination of all the heads of the Rebellion in one shot, there had been whispers in the factories about freeing Kira and having him murder their way to victory. The slogan Kill the Capitol had spread through District Five like wildfire, and after months of defeat, the people felt the fire in their bones again.

Until the first Kira-organised Hunger Games, of course.

L had to admit that was a genius move on Snow’s part. The Hunger Games were bad enough, did he _have_ to make it so they used the powers of the man they were counting on to humiliate them as much as possible?

That was the problem of the Districts. They were the losing side, they lost everything to the Capitol every time, all because they weren’t privileged enough to have an education, to put their minds to strategy rather than mere survival.

L missed Light. He missed him terribly. The four years they had been friends for had been the best years of his life. For the first time ever, he had had someone snarky enough, clever enough and brilliant enough to keep up with him, to think beyond the shallow trials of everyday life to dream about another world. He had a _partner_ , someone to bounce ideas off of and to confide in.

He could do that with Near and Mello, he guessed…but it wasn’t the same.

Sometimes he found himself looking at those frayed posters in the factory, studying that strained smile, those sardonic, dismissive amber eyes, the impossibly shiny rust-brown hair that framed his attractive face…

“L, I thought we were supposed to be at the City Circle in ten minutes. It has been fifteen.” A quiet, measured voice came from the dining table, where his two brothers sat in front of empty plates in their new clothes. Fifteen-year-old Mello still had on tears and a snarl, while twelve-year-old Near was blissfully blank.

L groaned, adjusting his new white sweatshirt over his raggedy jeans and gesturing for them to get up and follow him down. Being late for the Reaping would result in some stupid form of punishment, usually a wage-dock, which L couldn’t afford (excuse the pun).

Today would not only be his last Reaping but Near’s first, not that either of them particularly cared about that. He had one slip in that glass ball, the odds were as much in his favour as they could be. If he got picked despite all that, they would take it as a sign from God.

The three siblings sauntered down the gravel streets as casually as they could, trying their hardest to ignore the milling crowds and weeping children. Mello gripped his hand tightly, as if afraid that if he let go, L would stroll over to the Arena and hop happily in. He saw several of his classmates and colleagues from the factory standing uncertainly in the roped-off area closest to the stage.

L wrenched his hand out of Mello’s grasp and squatted down right in the middle of the street to look them in the eyes. “Okay, Mello, Near, we part ways here. You have to go to the back, Near, you see Linda waving there? Do you need me to show you the way?”

Near shook his snowy head, his huge dark eyes boring into his. “I can tell the way myself, thank you.”

“Mello? Need me to escort you?”

His blond sibling’s lip wobbled, as if he did, in fact, need an escort, but seeing Near act self-sufficient was enough to force him to decline. He wouldn’t be one-upped by that robotic albino, oh no. “I can see Matt over there, I can go.” He stared for a minute at L’s face. “L…if you get picked, I’m going to volunteer for you.”

That caught L by surprise. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You can’t stop me.” The blonde crossed his arms, obstinate. L felt a twist of worry in his stomach.

“Mello, you are _fifteen years old_. You cannot volunteer for me. I have a much greater chance of winning if I am chosen and you know it. I know Capoeira, I can handle myself. You must promise me that you will do no such thing.”

Mello shook his head. “I will volunteer, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

L growled, annoyed. _“Mihael!_ You will not-” The Capitol anthem started to play loudly from the stage, a blast of French horns and heavy drums, and the Peacekeepers flooded into the Square, whacking around the people who were outside their respective pens. L quickly backed away from his siblings. “You will not volunteer, Mello, or I will confiscate all the chocolate in your collection for the rest of your life, do you understand me? _Behave_ yourself.”

Quickly, avoiding the swinging batons of the Peacekeepers, L slipped into the pen for the eighteen-year-olds and stood up straight beside one of his factory colleagues, a rough heavily built man he wished with all his heart would be chosen instead of him. This guy looked like he had the potential to win the games, his arm muscles were the size of L’s _face_.

In no time, the escort of District Five, a scarily green-painted woman in a loud looping purple wig named Cornelia, had flounced onstage. “Hello, hello, hello, District Five!” She called cheerily, grabbing the mic and twirling it in her taloned hands. “Are you all having a brilliant day? I sure am! Shall we play the live feed from the Capitol now or are you all yet to settle?”

The Peacekeepers unanimously brandished their batons, ready to beat up anyone who was still ‘yet to settle’. L looked away with a smirk on his lips. _What a joke._

“Wonderful! Let’s hear President Snow’s speech, then!”

L hated to admit it…but if there was anything to look forward to in the Reaping, it would be this. Not because President Snow was some sort of magnificent orator or anything, just the opposite in fact. Snow did not stir any feelings of patriotism with this stupid speech, it was mostly just an arm-flexing moment to show off his power over the Districts. No, it wasn’t the speech he cared about.

The feed blinked on and zoomed in to focus on an aged, distinguished silver-haired man in front of a podium, red rose in his white suit…and a slender brunet boy by his side in a cream-coloured suit, standing with his gaze burning a hole in the ground.

“Dear citizens of Panem! Capitol and Districts, united as one!” The President’s speech washed over him, running through one ear and escaping from the other, completely meaningless. L’s entire focus was on the boy beside him, Kira, Raito Yagami.

Every time L had seen him on television, he had had two bodyguards dressed in all black standing behind him with their arms crossed obstinately. He looked healthy enough, though the dark circles around his honey eyes could have rivalled L’s own. His expression, that ferocity that the Capitol had not beaten down, L revelled in it. Perhaps his friend was still out there, somewhere. Perhaps someday, he could meet his Raito-kun again.

The silver-haired President finished whatever nonsense he had just spewed out, but this time, rather than pan away with the Capitol anthem playing at full volume, the camera zoomed in on the pair onstage. The old man was putting a gentle hand on Light’s back, snapping the boy’s attention from the ground in front of his feet to Snow’s poisonous blue eyes.

“Any words for the public, Kira?”

The _glare_ the brunet gave the old man sent a shiver down L’s spine. Did he even realise what he was doing to the Districts with every act of defiance? How he was filling everyone with the idea that he didn’t want to be on the side he was?

L fully expected the teenager to shake his head, refuse to speak, but once again he surprised him. The boy came forward, tilting the mic up with a brush of his fingers and giving the cameras a good look at his charming toothy grin, caramel eyes sparkling.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!” He said cheerily, but with his smile dropping abruptly halfway through his sentence, it sounded sarcastic enough to make Snow look like he had sucked on a lemon. He turned away from the podium without being dismissed and trudged off-screen, his bodyguards hurrying to tail him.

Snow was giving the boy an ominous look, but cut himself off to throw his warm smile at the audience. “Well said. May the Reaping begin!”

The Capitol anthem blared. The crest took over the screen. The District escort Cornelia twitted back to the middle of the stage, assisted by the former Victors Beetee and Wiress as she lugged two glass balls with her, one filled with the names of all the adolescent boys in District Five and the other with the girls. 24 of those chits had his name scrawled onto them. _L Lawliet_. He wondered if Kira would humiliate him if he got picked, as he did the others. He wondered if Light would even recognise him.

“Ladies first!” The infuriatingly merry woman declared, her hand diving into the slot of the bowl and rummaging about for the perfect slip. The eyes of every girl in the reaping pens followed her hand, as if they could somehow ward it away from their chits. The girl closest to him was clasping her hands to her chest with her eyes closed, praying frantically at the sky.

“Naomi Misora!”

L sighed. Misora was in his year, she had been a good friend of Light’s back when he had been around, mostly due to their shared Japanese ancestry than any actual similarities. She and L had grown closer after he left, especially after she started working at the factory, they sat next to each other at lunch and everything.

Misora marched up the stage in her black boots and grubby jacket, her dark hair loose around her pale face, stopping beside Cornelia, who let out a squeal.

“Well, we have one beautiful tribute! Time for the gentlemen!”

L crossed his fingers. It couldn’t be him, or else Mello would volunteer and damn it, he would have to challenge his volunteer claim and kick his ass in front of all the cameras to force him to get the fuck out of there.

The woman rummaged in the glass bowl for an infuriatingly long time. L’s face started to burn, and the atmosphere around him turned tense.

Finally, Cornelia whipped out a slightly yellowed chit and smoothed it out on the flat of her hand. L wanted to take one of his old tennis shoes and smack her across the face with it.

The woman looked up, her golden teeth gleaming in her green face.

“Mihael Keehl!”


	3. Television

“Who do you think you are, Light? What gives you the right to act like a spoilt teenager on live television and spoil the Yagami name?”

Light _knew_ his father would be insufferable today. He let out an aggravated sigh, leaning back against his chair. “Father, I _am_ a spoilt teenager.”

Soichiro Yagami’s hands curled into fists, but Light had never felt less threatened by anything in his life. If the man hit him, and that was a long shot in itself with his being Kira and all, his bodyguards would kick him out and Light wouldn’t have to deal with him for another half-year until he turned up again on the brunet’s birthday (Snow always took care of the little things).

His father took a deep breath. “You have a responsibility, Light, and you cannot abuse it-”

Light, very dramatically, kicked his legs up onto the table of the lounge Snow had prepared for them, picking up the remote and lazily switching on the wide-screen television. As expected, every channel was featuring the Reaping, and One was almost over. “Come on, Father. Let’s just do what we’re here for.”

They watched as a girl with long blond hair and the perkiest smile in the world got selected from District One, along with a overly dignified man with shiny black hair who refused to shake her hand.

Light glanced over at his father, who had taken a tense seat beside him, fists clenched on his thighs. Two was next, and the stress was killing the man. Light straightened up, tucking his feet under him and placing a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Dad. It’ll be fine. She hasn’t taken any Tesserae, it’ll be fine.”

The middle-aged man unclenched his fists, laying them flat on his knees. He looked gratefully down at his son and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. Light smiled, squeezing him back.

“Yes, son. It’ll be fine.”

The idiot escort clambered onstage with her glass balls, placing them clumsily in front of her. “Well, well, well!” She adjusted her fluffy pink robe around her. “What a beautiful day! Let’s start with the ladies!”

A few minutes later, Soichiro Yagami was throwing the table off of its legs, screaming at the top of his lungs. “She volunteered! She participated in a Volunteer Brawl and won! She wasn’t picked and volunteered anyway! This is bullshit! This is complete, utter bullshit!” Light’s father’s chest heaved as the bodyguards began to usher him out of the room. Light jumped to his feet.

“No, stop, let him go. He’s not going to hurt anyone.” He stated in his most authoritative voice, and the bodyguards released the middle-aged man, who ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, his eyes wide and crazed.

“I…I can change this. I can speak with President Snow. W-with your influence, I’m sure the President will agree. I will speak with the P-President, Light, don’t you worry. He won’t put your sister in the games.”

Light bit his lip, nodded weakly. “Yeah. You should go.”

“You have to come too, son! W-with your presence, he won’t deny me. Come with me right now.”

Light’s heart pounded in his chest. He looked back at the television, the Reaping had proceeded to District Three. “No, um. I need to stay. I need to finish this.”

“What else do you need to watch? Sayu’s Reaping is over! Come with me _this instant_ , Light!”

Light backed away, and his bodyguards took his place, shoving the older man out of the room. Soichiro Yagami wrenched in their hold, his face twisted into a snarl. “This is the only way to save your sister! She’s going to die! Do you want her to die? _Do you?_ You heartless bastard! My son has become a _monster_ -!”

The bodyguards slammed the door shut in his face, locking it.

Light stared at the door a long while, his fists clenched as he crossed his arms defensively in front of himself. It took the Capitol anthem blaring once more, declaring the Reaping of Five for him to quietly turn and perch himself back on his chair.

Sayu was an idiot. She was a fucking idiot, volunteering for tribute, did she expect him to protect her in the arena? Did she think that she was protected just because he was Kira?

She didn’t know he couldn’t protect her. He couldn’t protect anyone. If they didn’t have Kira, they would simply use their weaponry. Yes, they would have lost the trump card that won them their rebellion, but it was better the card be destroyed than used against them. Light knew how fragile his position was, how easy it would be to allow full control back to the Capitol and their cruelty.

His father would never understand why he needed to watch these.

Light sighed as the Reaping of Five began.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Mihael Keehl!”

The slim blond boy ran a hand through his silky hair, smirking as he sauntered onstage cool as a cucumber. This was perfect, he didn’t have to volunteer for L after all, he was protecting him just by existing! It was brilliant. The odds truly were in his favour.

The perky idiot beside him gave out a little twitter as she surveyed him. “What a lovely young…boy. Mihael Keehl, come stand beside Naomi, here. Come along.” She chirped, ushering him over to the side, but he wasn’t going down that easily. With an easy shove, he seized her mic from her and smirked at the cameras.

“Call me Mello. It rhymes with yellow, which is the colour all your pants are going to be once I’m done with you!”

Pin drop silence. The escort turned a bright shade of red. “Alright, then. Come along now, shake Naomi’s hand.” The poor brunette extended her hand, but was blatantly rejected as the blonde gave her a scrutinising look and made another grab for the mic.

“You sure you want to shake this hand, sweetheart? You don’t know where it’s been.”

Incredibly, the crowd booed. Mello’s cheeks burned as he faced the audience down. “Hey, suck on it, ya prudes! Jeez, it’s called entertainment!”

Cornelia snatched the mic back. “Get back right now.” She gritted out in an amazingly commanding voice. Stunned, Mello actually complied, and Cornelia turned her bright smile to the cameras. “It’s time to ask for volunteers! Any volunteers for Naomi Misora?”

The wind whistled ominously through the Main Square. The brunette fidgeted as she stood still in the middle of the stage, and Cornelia floundered to fill the awkward silence. “Wonderful! Looks like we will be having you for good then! Fantastic!” She turned to her left, and her expression turned ever so minutely full of distaste.

The blond boy stood with his douche-smirk on full blast, his chin raised high for the cameras.

“Any volunteers for Mihael Keehl?”

A bored monotone rose from the middle of the pack of eighteen-year-olds, where one pale hand rose above everyone’s heads. “Yes, I was thinking I would like to volunteer.”

There was a stunned silence as the hunchbacked man with his shock of black hair climbed onstage and gave the increasingly reddening Mello a brief smirk. “Off the stage, Mello. You’re not going to the Games on my watch.”

The blond boy did not take that lightly. “No! I refuse! I’m not letting him volunteer! Fuck off, L!”

The crowd took in a collective breath, and Cornelia burst into a gleeful twitter. “This is brilliant! Astonishing! For the first time in District Five, we have a _Volunteer Brawl!”_ The escort danced around the two siblings, who were glaring at each other as if they had never seen anyone more disgusting than the other. “Get to either side of the stage! Come along now! Beetee, Wiress, Naomi, out of the way! When I give the signal, I want you two to _fight!”_

Mello narrowed his blue eyes, raising his eyebrows challengingly. “Come at me, L. Come the fuck at me, let’s see who wins this one. Fucking bastard doesn’t want to be protected.”

L only smirked.

Thousands of miles away, sitting in a polished television room with only his bodyguards for company, a slender teenager in a wrinkled white suit buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mello is the best. I should feature him in more of my fics XD
> 
> Review and comment! :D They're very encouraging!


	4. Volunteer Brawl

“Come at me, L. Come the fuck at me. Fucking bastard doesn’t want to be protected.”

So come at him he did.

Mello shrieked as L barrelled into him, giving him a sharp kick across the jaw and sweeping his legs under him so he fell hard onto his back. The blonde tried to grab him by the ankles, but the kid was only fifteen and thinner than a stick, it was hardly a fair fight. L had learnt Capoeira from Watari-sensei, their neighbour who had grown quite fond of L over the years. Mello had been trained in pick-pocketing and other petty crimes, sure, but he was hardly a martial arts expert.

It had taken literally three seconds for L to have his struggling brother pinned under him, shouting obscenities that would probably make Near’s head explode if he ever tried to understand one of them. L chuckled.

“I told you to get off the stage, Mello. You should have listened to me. Now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of the entire nation.”

“Fuck that! Fuck you, L!” The golden-haired boy shrieked as he kicked back at L’s torso, trying to wriggle out of his death-grip. L adjusted it so it was a choke-hold, tightening his arm around the boy’s neck.

“Get off the stage, Mello! Accept defeat!”

“No!” The younger brother cried out. “I’m not letting you go to the Hunger Games! I’m going to protect you!”

“You’re doing a mighty fine job of that, aren’t you? Give in.”

_“Never!”_

L sighed a long-suffering sigh, tightening his arm further. Soon enough, Mello was patting the ground in defeat, his face a sickly purple. “Will you go down now?”

The blonde shook his head desperately, panting for air. L pursed his lips, looking to Cornelia. “Aren’t there rules for this? Is this a brawl to the death? I am clearly the winner.”

Mello shook his head frantically, clawing at L’s sweatshirt.

Cornelia glanced around nervously. “Actually…I don’t know. District Five’s never had a Volunteer Brawl before…”

Randomly, a calm, measured voice came from behind them all. “According to the Charter of the Hunger Games, page thirty-six, a Volunteer Brawl ends with, and I quote, first blood.” Beetee, District Five’s only male victor and L’s potential mentor said, giving the cameras a professional smile.

Mello immediately began to try and bite L’s arm. Did he want to chew threw the older man’s sweatshirt? Was he raising an imbecile? He would have to instruct Near to stimulate Mello’s mind more.

L laughed. “Well, that is easily arranged.” With one fluid motion, the teenager withdrew one of his hands and easily socked Mello on the nose, feeling the satisfying crunch under his knuckles as he broke it. The blonde screeched, scrabbling out of L’s arms and trying to hide the blood leaking from his nostril, but his crimson fingers were proof enough.

L shoved the teenager off of him, giving him a taunting grin. “Looks like the odds were not in your favour, Mihael. I told you to behave. I’ll have Near hide all your chocolates for the rest of your life.”

The boy groaned, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. L knew where he had hit him, it would be easy to heal. They had a splint at home that could help, and Near knew how to fix these wounds, they had had good practice in the past.

Yet, L couldn’t help a stab of worry. “Are you alright, Mihael?”

Mello shook his head, hiding his face. L got to his feet, hunching over his brother. “Hey, it doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” He put a hand under the blonde’s chin, tilting it up so the curtain of his yellow hair fell out of the way.

To his shock and horror, Mihael was crying, and right in front of the cameras broadcasting them to the entire world.

“You bastard. You’re going to die, you’re going to leave me alone here.”

L hurriedly patted his shoulder. “No, Mello, you’ll have Near. You’ll have Near and that compensation they’ll give you for my death, don’t worry.”

Mello gasped. “So that was your _plan?_ Get us a fucking compensation? You _planned_ this?” The blonde bawled. “I hate you! You’re the worst brother to ever live! I _hate_ you!”

L shushed him. “Mihael, how could I have planned this? You’re hysterical.”

“I hate you!” Mello screamed as the Peacekeepers finally sprung to action, dragging the sobbing boy offstage. “I hate you, L! I’ll _never_ forgive you! I hope you _die!”_

L felt his face burn as he stepped back into Mello’s place beside Cornelia, who was beaming in ecstasy. “How brilliant, we have the winner of District Five’s first Volunteer Brawl! In recent history, anyway! What’s your name, victor?”

L cleared his throat, leaning a little away from the mic the woman was shoving into his face. “L Lawliet.”

“L Lawliet!” Cornelia declared cheerily. “L Lawliet, the male tribute from District Five! Shall we get a round of applause?”

Of course, it was just his luck that there was no applause whatsoever. Didn’t those fools realise that being seen as accepted and popular would make the Capitol citizens also think he was worthy of applauding?

Oh well. He supposed the lack of applause would make him stand out as well. The very fact that he was a citizen of District Five who brawled with his brother to save him from the Games was pretty good. He hoped it was enough to pique the attention of the Capitol.

“Well.” Cornelia seemed more than overwhelmed all of a sudden. “Hope you all have a great Reaping Day! Come along, you two. To the Justice Building with the two of you.”

Naomi gave him an appraising look as she turned to follow the escort over to the rickety Justice Building. L shrugged, giving her an equally squinty look as he shuffled beside them.

Next would come the family time, to which neither Mello nor Near were likely to turn up. Watari-sensei would probably come. He could request him to take care of the boys, and the old man would, he was a good man.

He kind of wished he had taken a token. Yes, tokens were dangerous in the Hunger Games, they were yet another emotional trigger Snow would command Kira to exploit, but a reminder of his life would have been comforting in his last moments.

L Lawliet was used to risking his life, especially for his siblings. He did so every time he snuck away an extra loaf of bread or meat for dinner from the lunch the factory provided, he did so every time he stole from under the Peacekeepers’ noses. The fact that his death was pretty much guaranteed this time around changed nothing, he would face it with his head held high. Nothing could bend him, that was one thing he had to be proud of.

L tried to quell the inexplicable excitement pooling inside him. He was marching towards his death. The fact that he was going to see Light Yagami again was nothing to be happy about. In fact, he should be dreading it, Light was going to be the man writing his death warrant (quite literally).

And yet, inexplicably, he had to suppress a smile as Cornelia had the Peacekeepers open up the doors of the Justice Building and lead them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, have I said how much I love Mello? XD
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the encouraging comments! I've been going through this strange writer's block type thing and encouragement always helps make me get off my ass and...get back on my ass to type XD
> 
> Review and comment! :D


	5. Carnival Floats

Light was in the worst mood he had been since two years ago, when he had been waiting to be executed.

Did all these people have a death wish? Why were they _all_ fucking volunteering? Did they expect him to protect them all? Because he wasn’t going to protect them, not a chance, not unless they were fan-favourites and earned it. Fucking leeches, trying to use him as a shield, what the hell was wrong with all of them?

He huffed, sitting back in his straight-backed chair. He was currently in the President’s Presidential Suite (what a redundant name), wearing a black suit this time, as black as his mood. He _had_ ended up appealing to the President to save his sister (because fuck it all, he couldn’t protect both of them even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to put a target on L’s back) but, of course, he had been gently and politely rejected, the smell of poison and roses stinging his eyes until he left the room gasping.

Light looked down at his hands, curled into fists in his lap. L. _L Lawliet_. He hadn’t seen his face in years, not since District Five. So much had happened since L Lawliet had been his best friend and they’d spent their days bunking off school to buy brightly-coloured candy apples using Light’s abundant pocket money.

It wasn’t fair. L wasn’t going to become a fan-favourite, not by a long shot. He was weird, introverted and sultry, always contorted in some strange position as he sulked about the lack of his latest favourite candy.

The brunet laughed softly. He always sat with his knees tucked under his chin. He ate sugar like a drug addict snorted cocaine, he had bags under his eyes that looked like he had carried bowling balls in them for a week, he was pale and scrawny and wouldn’t last three days in the arena.

The last time Light had tried cutting himself, the guards had burst into the room within seconds and ripped the blade from him, and he hadn’t been allowed privacy for three months.

He felt a rapid, urgent tapping of a finger on his shoulder. Light blinked, realising that he had been burying his face in his hands, and looked up, smiling when he saw it was just Rose.

“Hey.” He flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes. “What’s up?”

The redheaded Avox stared at him with wide blue eyes, and he could see tears pooling in them. A stab of worry struck him until she suddenly grasped him in a rib-crunching hug.

His sister. Of course she thought he was despairing over his idiot sister. Light licked his lips, returning her hug half-heartedly.

She pulled back, writing a blurring succession of letters (Q, O-F, P-S, A-H) and made a lewd gesture that appeared to simulate sticking certain private parts into her mouth. Light widened his eyes, raising his hands. “Wait up, Rose, let me decode. Wow.”

Q is quote, O-F, P-S is President Snow and A-H…

“May the odds be ever in President Snow’s favour?”

The Avox girl rolled her eyes, repeating her gesture more slowly. Light caught on and had to bite his lip to stifle his laugh. “May the odds be stuck up President Snow’s asshole?”

The redhead waved her hand at him. _Close enough_. She studied him, cupping his jaw carefully. He leaned into her touch, smiling. “I’m fine, Rose. I’ll manage.”

She shook her head, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. _I’ll be there for you._

“I know. I know, thank you.” He caught her hand in his, giving it a tentative squeeze. “I’m really grateful you exist, you know. You…help. A lot.”

Rose barked out a strangled noise that could have been a laugh in another life. She patted his head mock-condescendingly and snapped her fingers at him, pointing at the door.

“Time to go?”

She nodded, taking his arm and hauling him up. He chuckled, elbowing her off of him. Her eyes sparkled as she wrote the next sentence in perfect cursive in the air. _I’m sure your sister will look beautiful on her float._

“Seriously, Rose?” The girl made another barking laugh and nudged him with her hip, sticking her hand into the crook of his elbow. He took a deep breath and allowed her to lead his way to the great display.

* * *

This was…interesting.

L stood in a skin-tight jumpsuit made entirely of blinking light bulbs, looking like a Christmas decoration in the middle of a gathering of beautiful people. Look at District Twelve, they were naked and covered in coal dust but at least that was attention-grabbing. What was this stupid suit? He looked like an alien (and Light was going to see him this way, the thought itself was mortifying).

He especially felt sorry for Naomi Misora. She was a pretty girl, she could easily have become one of the top contenders if they didn’t have two absolute imbeciles for designers

Though technically, it didn’t really matter. These Games were going to be rigged one way or another. After all, Kira’s sister Sayu was here. She was the contender from District Two in her gold-plated Roman armour and winged helmet, looking like an Amazon fresh out of war. She looked so much like her brother, with those large brown eyes and high cheekbones, but her eyes weren’t as bright. She was a washed-out version of him, she didn’t carry his fire.

She did carry his spunk, though. He had heard that the sixteen year old had volunteered for her position, beating the Reaped girl to a pulp in the Brawl. The other Tributes either hated her guts or worshipped the very ground she stepped on, especially with the rumours floating around that Kira could never murder his own sister. If she didn’t watch her back, Sayu Yagami could find a knife sticking out of it.

L had made peace with it all. If Light chose to save his sister, he wouldn’t mind. He had accepted his death quite easily, he would just cause all the anarchy he could, keep his family’s compensation for his death rising as much as possible until his guaranteed demise. He only hoped Kira would not humiliate him with his brothers watching.

Light wouldn’t humiliate him, would he?

“Tributes, to your chariots!” An announcer’s voice demanded, so L reluctantly stepped onto his carnival float, a chariot painted with bolts of lightning and bulbs to signify District Five’s power generation plants.

So stupid. If they had wanted to simulate electricity generation, why not make a Tesla coil? It was a much cooler idea and might grab _somebody’s_ attention.

L hunched over in his usual crouch, nibbling at his thumb. Beside him, Naomi Misora looked vaguely nervous. Why was she nervous? They weren’t going to be looking at her. The star of the show today was going to be Sayu Yagami, guaranteed Career Tribute.

Their chariot started with a jerk and they rattled out into the sunlight. The crowds of the Capitol surrounded them, and as predicted, the Roman Two chariot was getting the most cheers, with some people even throwing roses and glitter at the pair. However, about halfway through their little parade, there was a shift. Suddenly, people were booing at that chariot, and the roses and glitter started to pour onto the chariot from One, the one carrying Misa Amane and Teru Mikami, both dressed in bejewelled swimwear making the most of their assets. Someone even threw a rotten banana peel in Sayu’s hair, much to the brunette’s incredulity.

“ _Lawliet_. L, please stand up. People are laughing.” Misora’s soft voice came from beside him, sounding more strung up than usual. L looked up at the crowds and noted that they were pointing and laughing at him and his posture. One man mimicked the croaking of a frog, flapping his arms ridiculously at the Five chariot.

L’s eyes widened. _Attention, this would get attention!_ The black-haired man grinned widely, likely causing more than a few heart attacks, and stuck his legs in the air, resting them on the rim of the chariot. The movement made it wobble, much to Naomi’s shock. “What are you doing?” She hissed.

The older man gave her a cheeky grin. “Trust me, Misora. This is doing a lot more for us than standing around.” With a feat of gymnastics that had even the most hard-hearted Capitol citizen applauding for him, he flipped onto his back and did a handstand. Their horses bucked slightly, letting out indignant neighs at the wobbling.

The cheers were all for them now. With a shrug, Naomi took his lead, unscrewing one of the blinking light bulbs from the leg of his jumpsuit and tossing it at the crowd. The people of the Capitol cheered and caught it, and L took that as his cue to perform one of his Capoeira kicks. Mello and Near had loved his Capoeira as children, and what were these audience members if not children? L took a deep breath, braced himself and flipped back onto his feet, launching himself fluidly in the air. He kicked out and dislodged several of his light bulbs, the glass orbs crashing beside the horses and sending the beasts into a panic.

The Tributes of Four and Six screamed as their horses bucked and threw them off of their chariots. Luckily, though, the horses of Five were made of sterner stuff, so he and Misora could point and snicker at the fallen fishermen and tyre-people as they passed them, eliciting the crowds’ delight.

L was on a high, red-cheeked and grinning wider than he had in a long time. He unscrewed more of his light bulbs and gave half of his load to Naomi. “Follow my lead.” He instructed as he began to throw them in the air and juggle them. Misora’s eyes boggled out of her head and she began to giggle uncontrollably.

“Stop! Stop, I can’t juggle!” The girl said. The chariots began to line up in front of the City Circle, so it didn’t really matter, but L was on a high and the crowds were cheering and he was about to see his Raito-kun again. The black-haired man laughed.

“It doesn’t matter if you can juggle, Misora! It’s all about the show!”

That cracked her up. They were both dissolving in their cheers and laughter, so much so that they barely even noticed when President Snow came up onstage and tapped his mic.

“Citizens of Panem!” Snow announced, and it all fell silent. With a sigh, Misora dropped her load, as did L. The pale man looked up at the balcony, at the dark shadow beside Snow.

Light Yagami was staring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playful!L is so much fun! I just love him so much <3
> 
> Review and comment! :D


	6. Happy Hunger Games

“Citizens of Panem! Friends, brothers, countrymen! We gather here today to witness the first gathering of the Tributes of the Seventy-eighth Hunger Games!”

L was buzzing with energy. Light Yagami, his first friend, the boy he had dreamed about for years and years was standing there on that balcony in a tailored black suit, his eyes bright amber shining with that carefully disguised intelligence he remembered so well.

His expression was strange, a mixture of melancholy and resentment, a far cry from the triumph he always saw on those posters in his factory. Kira, he was finally face-to-face with Kira.

The President’s speech reached a rousing crescendo, and the crowd began to clap. L hoped the speech wasn’t ending, he didn’t want this to end. Light wasn’t looking at Sayu, as you would expect. He was staring determinedly at L and only L, at the tattered jumpsuit, the wild black hair, the cheery smile, and he looked so _sad_.

In that moment, L knew Light recognised him. He didn’t have to fear humiliation in the arena. Kira would not humiliate him because Light looked ready to throw himself from the balcony right this minute. The brunet wanted to save him, it was _hurting_ him that he couldn’t save him.

L understood. Light was a captive, he knew it for certain now. It was all he wanted to save his friend from his captors, but he could settle for dying peacefully in the arena to make sure the brunet wasn’t harmed. L would never demand that Light try to save him if it meant Snow would have his head.

“And may you all have a happy Hunger Games!” Snow declared, and the crowd burst into a volley of cheers. The President stepped off of his pedestal, patting Light’s shoulder as he passed him, obviously prompting him to follow.

Suddenly, desperately, L couldn’t let him go, not yet. He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice as much as he could. _“Kira-kun!”_

The crowds fell silent. Light and the President froze where they were.

 _“Kira-kun!”_ He shouted out, a manic grin splitting his face. _“Kira-kuuuun! Hello!”_

As Light turned around to face him again, he relished in the look of absolute horror marring that attractive face.

 _“Kira-kun! Won’t you wish us a happy Hunger Games too?”_ His throat was raw from shouting so loudly. It wasn’t often L raised his voice above a dull monotone.

The brunet blinked, his eyes meeting his in a forbidding glare underlain with fear. L knew how to push his buttons, he had always known.

Surprisingly, though, another voice pitched in from the other side of the line-up. “Yes, Kira! Wish us a happy Hunger Games!” Misa Amane’s screeching voice needed no amplification to be heard in every corner of the City Circle. L almost envied her.

“Kira! Kira! Kira!” She started to chant, and the crowd picked up on it, the chant vibrating through the ground with their passion. Even a smattering of the Tributes, including the amused Naomi Misora, called out to the brunet. L grinned toothily, pumping his fist in the air. “Kira! Kira! Kira!”

Light fidgeted nervously, looking back at President Snow for permission. Reluctantly, Snow gestured to the mic, making Light gape incredulously at him. The President nodded, and the crowd cheered maniacally.

Raito-kun stepped up to the mic, ducking his head as if embarrassed. “Um. Okay.” His voice was smooth and rich, like the dark Capitol honey L had gotten to taste on the train ride. “Happy Hunger Games, I guess.”

The crowds went wild and L whooped as well, blowing Light a kiss and making him turn beet-red. The teenager stepped away from the mic and quickly retreated indoors, but it had been enough to make L sigh and sit back in his chariot.

He looked around at the rest of the Tributes. Misora was smiling at him, obviously, but a lot of the rest of them were staring at him as well. The Tributes from Six and Four were glaring at him (he had toppled their chariots), Two was giving him dirty looks (he had upstaged them) and One, One was a strange mixture. On one hand, Misa Amane was grinning happily at him, giving him a little giggle-wiggle movement, but her partner, Teru Mikami, was glowering suspiciously.

What reason Mikami could possibly have to dislike him, L had no idea, but he found he did not particularly care either. If he was going to die, he was going to die happy and there was nothing these people could do that could possibly stop him.

* * *

“Who is that tribute?”

It was barely an hour since the disastrous City Circle Parade, and Light was already sitting in President Snow’s office, his bodyguards blocking the doorway as they always did when they suspected the discussion was going to get ugly. It was unnecessary, it wasn’t like Light had anywhere to run. If he did escape temporarily, it would only ever be a minor inconvenience.

He wasn’t going to even try this time. Seconds after the disaster happened Light had anticipated this, so he was fully prepared for any and all backlash from the higher-ups. He hadn’t expected the President to call upon him though, maybe just a slap on the wrist by one of the game-in-charges (they used to be called Gamemakers before Kira made his appearance, they were the ones who designed each arena and dealt with Kira himself, making sure he stayed in line and performed for the best entertainment value). For the President to request an audience meant what L had done was much more serious than he’d thought.

Light cleared his throat, ducking his head. “Well…he used to be one of my classmates in District Five.”

“I know that, Yagami. What I want to know is why he did what he did. Were you enemies? Friends? Have you ever spoken to each other?” The President steepled his fingers onto his hardwood desk. “Or does he have a darker motive?”

“Darker motive?” Light frowned, confused. “All he did was ask me to say a couple of words.”

“Which you did hesitantly and with a complete lack of enthusiasm. You played into their hands, Light Yagami. In my glory days, when I was still a young and rash man, that might have been enough of a reason to get you executed.”

The bodyguards at the doorway stepped closer together, their hands on the guns in their belts.

Light felt a familiar ache of anxiety in his chest. He gulped, his hands twisting together in his lap. “I’ve only ever served you, President Snow. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong…” If he was executed, he would go down as a villain in history. He would be universally hated, his family lynched, his sister killed in the arena. He would forever be known as Kira, the murderer of thousands and bane of the arena.

The old man chuckled merrily. “Relax, Kira. I said, in my _rasher_ years. I will not execute you at this current moment. After all, you know nothing of what is going on out there, how could you have avoided it?” There was a ring of sarcasm to his words.

Light chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Well then why don’t you tell me? I can avoid whatever mistakes I’m making if I’m told.” He cocked his head, studying the white-haired man with the large white rose in his lapel. “Why am I cut off this way? I’m one of the allies of Panem, aren’t I? What harm can come from keeping me updated on what is happening? I’ve already helped you win your war.”

The wrinkles around the old man’s eyes deepened as he smiled an evil, venomous smile. “You play dumb, Light Yagami, but I suspect you know exactly what is going on. And believe me, one step out of line and I will show your family no mercy. I will have them killed in public, I will sully your name. Do not provoke the Capitol, Kira. You are not powerful here.”

Light looked away. “I know that. I know my place.”

“Good. So you will have no trouble making sure L Lawliet of District Five dies painfully, will you?”

Each word stabbed at him like needles. The fact that he had expected them didn’t make it hurt any less.

The former God of the New World bowed his head.

“He wasn’t going to survive anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, L is being so cute and Snow is such a party pooper :(
> 
> Review and comment! Help me improve (and give me suggestions if you have any!)


	7. Rebellion

It was easy note the exact minute the Gamemaker parade entered the Training Hall. All L had to do was take a glance at the clock at the exact minute the entire hall fell silent, all the murmurs and clangs of metal on metal vanishing as if someone had flicked off the switch.

L had been expecting this soon enough. After all, they had already spent three days practicing nothing in particular. It wasn’t skill at weaponry that was going to save their lives.

The Gamemakers were dressed in all black, their faces uncovered as they swarmed around them like insects. He could see every one of them, note their faces, revel in their disgustingly garish fashion sense. One of them had dyed her skin green, another patterned his beard with beads. None of them had a shock of auburn hair, standing tall above them all with an innate sense of dignity and grace that most people in this hellhole of a Capitol lacked.

L sighed, going back to his amateur swordplay with Naomi Misora, gripping the weapon clumsily in his hands. He hadn’t expected him to come. Kira wasn’t obligated to come, he was intelligent enough to get an accurate reading of all the Tributes without bothering to get off his chair.

“Shall we continue?” L monotoned, readying his stance and waiting for Misora to mimic it. The woman squirmed uncomfortably, her eyes set on the stream of dark-clothed men with clipboards.

“Do you really think we should practice right now?” She asked nervously. “I mean…they’ll see our weaknesses, they can use them against us…”

L shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, they’ll find out by the end anyway. A death is a death. Might as well go down fighting, eh?”

“Yeah.” Naomi managed a shaky smile. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

L held the longsword loosely between his long fingers, the metal glinting in the artificial white light, studying it. “The real question is if you really think it’s a good idea to learn to use a sword.”

“Hmm?” Naomi frowned. “What d you mean?”

 “It just feels like a waste of time, neither of us are really strong enough for it. Besides, it’s not like it’ll help if your name is written in the Death Note.” He turned his attention to the other weapons on display. “If anything, the throwing knives work best for me. And you’re very much a bow-and-arrows person.”

Naomi Misora made a sound of disapproval, grimacing. “I don’t want to be a bow-and-arrows person, it’ll remind everyone too much of Katniss Everdeen. I don’t want to be a target.”

“Perhaps you can try the poison darts. If we’re allies, I can make poison for you, it’s quite simple.”

Naomi smirked. “Yeah, and the minute we face off you’ll make sure I don’t have any poison to work with, won’t you?”

The pale man grinned. “Naturally.”

“You scheming bastard.” Misora laughed. “I think I’ll take a look at the weapon’s rack again. Get your knives.”

Walking towards the rack was a very stressful activity. For one, the place was teeming with Tributes swinging life-threatening weapons, just waiting to take off a head or a spare limb. That, plus the addition of the possibility of seeing Light meant it was inevitable that the District 5 Tribute tripped right over the crouching teenager in his way, sending both of them tumbling to the ground in a tangle of gangly limbs.

The older man shook his head and brushed himself off. “Sorry about that. Are you hurt?” He asked, sweeping his long black fringe out of his eyes as he studied the girl. His eyes widened as he took her in.

Blond hair tied in a fishtail brain. Large blue eyes, delicate features, an orange band around her forearm declaring her district, District 12. The face that had been splashed all over the television three years ago, the face that had accompanied its black-haired, grey-eyed counterpart.

The girl stared at him with those large blue eyes, glimmering with tears. “You’re sorry, are you?” She stood up, looking ready to flounce off, but L caught her arm.

“Primrose Everdeen?”

The girl tried to shake him off. “Fuck off. Just fuck off!”

“Were you the Tribute from 12 this whole time?” L asked, unrelenting. Finally, the teenager fell limp in his grip, glaring at him.

“Yes. Obviously.”

L’s mind whirred to make connections. “You were in hiding, then, not dead. And you were discovered…I believed they did not require a Reaping for you, did they? No wonder I don’t remember a girl Tribute from 12.”

“Yeah, genius. Thanks.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Now get the fuck away from me.”

The pale man raised his thumb to his lip. “Why are you so defensive? Are you being bullied by the other Tributes?”

The blond girl hissed. “You’d be defensive too if Snow guaranteed that you would torture yourself before you die-”

_“Onii-chaaaan!”_

The screech silenced the entire hall as every single Tribute turned to stare at Sayu Yagami from District 2 sprinting loudly towards the doorway at the far-end of the room. L’s heart jumped to his mouth, all thoughts about the Mockingjay’s sister forgotten.

“Liiiiight, I missed you so much! I missed you!” The younger Yagami yelled at the top of her lungs, throwing her arms around the slender boy’s neck. The atmosphere thickened, the Tributes all unanimously growing tense, especially with the arrival of massive bodyguards at their sides, standing with their meaty arms crossed.

“Kira.” A rustle of a whisper spread around the room, a crumpled paper chit passed around from person to person. “Kira. Kira.” L glanced to his side and unsurprisingly, Primrose Everdeen was gone.

Sayu pulled away and L could finally get a good look at Light Yagami. As self-assured as ever, as gorgeous as ever, but there was a mask on, an emotionless mask that narrowed his eyes and curled one side of his mouth in a smirk. “Hey, Sayu.”

“Hi, Onii-chan! How’ve you been? You look so good!”

L felt his legs moving before he could even think about it. A wide smile was taking over his face, his heart was beating too loudly in his chest. _Light Yagami, Light Yagami, Light Yagami._ He grinned, his white teeth flashing as he neared the Yagami siblings. The Tributes were staring at him, he realised, staring in awe and horror, but he couldn’t care less.

The minute he crossed the white line that marked how far weapons could be taken, the bodyguards fixed him with their steely gazes, and soon enough, so did Light.

When the brunet’s caramel eyes met his, those delicately beautiful slanted eyes he could draw from memory, L felt his heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth to call out his name, say hi, something, anything, but before he could say a word he absorbed Light’s expression.

The mask wasn’t slipping, he realised. His mouth was stiff, jaw tighter than a wound spring. L’s best friend’s eyes were still narrow, shadowed, hateful.

Curtly, the brunet turned on his heel, gently but firmly shoving his sister away from himself. “It was nice to see you, Sayu, but I’m here on duty. I’ll talk to you the next time President Snow grants me some free time.”

“O-oh, okay.” Sayu stammered, stepping back. “I’ll…um…”

“You can go back to practicing.” Light said dismissively, sauntering off, his bodyguards following him like shadows. She stared forlornly at his receding form, then swiftly whirled around to glare at L.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Sayu snarled. “Fucking District 5 freak.” The girl stomped off, her face flushed. L wondered if she was particularly defensive because she remembered who he was.

* * *

The blond boy had been screaming at the top of his lungs for the past two days. The only time Matt had had some respite was when the Tribute Parade was being broadcast on television (God, he was proud of L. That direct taunt to the Capitol…it wasn’t a wise move but it sure made a statement).

Anyway, the minute that had ended, the blonde had immediately resorted to bellowing at several decibels over the drone of the factories. Not a lot got on Matt’s nerves but a screaming Mello was a little too much for a human being to handle.

Luckily, Watari was not human.

“Mihael Keehl, sit down.” The old man said quietly from his perch on L’s old armchair. He had taken over the guardianship of the Lawliet family (or whatever they called themselves) in L’s absence. The man managed the District 5 orphanage, after all. It wasn’t hard to believe he was spending his time taking care of the two orphans who adamantly refused to move into Whammy’s House (not that they would have much choice in the matter if L died).

“I don’t want to sit down! You think _L’s_ sitting down at the Capitol? _I’m going to rescue him!”_

The old man sighed. “Mello, you aren’t going to rescue him.”

 _“Why the fuck not?”_ He screamed. “The Capitol isn’t as secure as they think it is! I’m going to fucking break in and destroy them! I’m going to save L! I won’t let him die!”

“Mello, shut up!” Matt snapped. “Jeez, can you keep your mouth shut? If a Peacekeeper hears you…”

Mello whirled to face his redheaded friend. _“I don’t care!_ I’m going to join the rebels and-”

 _“Mihael Keehl!”_ Watari’s voice boomed, a far cry from his usual murmur, stunning even Near, who was sitting against the wall with his straw dolls in his hands. Everyone stared at the old man, who stood up from his seat and glared at the young blonde. “Do you have any idea what you are saying?”

Mello curled his hands into fists. “Yes, I do! I’m going to save L! And none of you can stop me because you _obviously_ don’t care about him! You don’t care if he dies, you’ll just stand by and watch it on TV!”

“Who says I don’t care?” Watari’s voice returned to its usual volume, a breath of crisp, quiet air. “Do you really think I don’t care about my most gifted student?”

_“Who gives a shit how gifted he is? He’s my only family, and you can’t stop me from saving his life!”_

There was a brief silence after his words, a vacuum that had Near dip his head and resume whatever story his straw dolls were telling him. Mello sniffled, crossing his arms, and suddenly he looked younger than fifteen, he was only a small boy with an obstinate pout and tears pooling in his eyes.

“You can’t stop me. You can’t, you can’t ask me to let L die. You can’t.”

Watari was silent, studying the orphan with cool blue gaze. Slowly, the old man took off his glasses, polished them with a cloth and put them back on his nose, eyes twinkling enigmatically.

“And who, Mihael Keehl, said I’m going to stop you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mello ain't very mellow XD
> 
> Review and comment please! :D it means the world to me!


	8. Obligations

“So, we Tributes have a celebratory dinner tomorrow night, before the first break for interview preparation.” The woman giggled as she leaned back against the wall, letting her plain black shirt draw up ever so tentatively, exposing a sliver of the pale skin of her stomach. “I’m sure President Snow will let you come.”

It was beyond Light how anyone could flirt with someone who was very likely to write down the circumstances of your death. Or maybe that was the point.

The brunet gave her a small smile, leaning back with her as they watched the District 1 male Tribute, Mikami, chop a practice dummy to bits with his sword. “Maybe.” He could almost forget his bodyguards standing a few metres away, the other Tributes in the Hall watching them with accusatory eyes.

The girl gasped in mock-horror. “Oh my god! You actually said something other than no! Good for you!” Her delicate hand traced his shoulder indiscreetly.

Light shrugged her off. “Do you realise what you’re doing?”

“I’m asking you out. You’re so gorgeous, every time I see you on my television I want to just lick your face off.” Misa Amane beamed cheekily. Light studied her out the corner of his eye. A beautiful girl, pretty enough to be a beauty in the Capitol, let alone District 1. She wasn’t likely to be rejected by many people, especially with her playful airhead persona.

Light’s eyes swept around the Hall. “You’re putting a target on your back.”

“I know.” The girl giggled, still wearing that obnoxiously cheeky smile. “I’m not stupid, you know. And besides, even if my plans don’t work and I die, at least I went on a date with the infamous Kira.” She whispered that last word in his ear, her lips brushing his auricle. “Go out with me.”

Light closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get, I think. It’s fine, I’ll wait for you. In the red cocktail dress. You look like you like the colour red.” She winked.

Light couldn’t help the slight smile that appeared on his face. He pushed off the wall. “I need to observe the rest of the Tributes now.” He hugged his clipboard to his chest as he began to walk off, knowing Misa had wanted to take a peek.

The clipboard contained the names of each of the Tributes of the Hunger Games next to a column labelled Potential Triggers. The Death Note only worked for plausible situations. If a person wasn’t suicidal, they weren’t going to be able to commit suicide. What Light needed to do was get the data that would ensure perfect results with the maximum amount of entertainment mixed in.

So far, in the two days he’d been hanging around the Training Hall, he had observed ten Tributes. The star of the show, Primrose Everdeen. Misa Amane. Mikami Teru. Sayu and her partner Matsuda. Deli and Devon from District 7. Plough and Bushel from District 11. And, of course, Naomi Misora from 5.

He hadn’t written anything down in her column.

There were fourteen Tributes remaining, fourteen people he had yet to observe…but something was drawing him towards her again. Naomi Misora. They had been friends, back in 5. They had shared the miso soup Light’s mother had made for him, they had made fun of their classmates together (with L), they had promised to take care of each other’s families in case any one of them was reaped.

He folded his clipboard and tucked it under his arm as he neared the swordfighting arena. Briefly, when he’d first arrived, Naomi had attempted to score points on the dartboard (key word being attempted). It wasn’t like she scored any better on swordfighting, but it was clear she enjoyed it more.

He stood there for a total of five minutes, watching her strike and parry with the practice dummy, her arm gliding smoothly with the arc of the weapon, until she noticed his presence and stilled her movements.

He crossed his arms. “Misora.”

“Kira.” She greeted. Light winced. He’d hated that name even when it’d referred to the God of the New World. Sure, they’d meant it out of awe, referring to the General Kira who had vanquished so many enemies during the creation of Panem, but considering his Japanese ancestry, the word Killer didn’t sound too much like a compliment to him.

“I’m not doing much here. You’ll have to come back some other time if you want to figure out my weaknesses.” Misora snarked. “Though I’d have expected someone as perceptive as you to have listed them all out already. Four years is an awfully long time to go without getting to know someone.”

“Look, maybe I’m just taking a break.” Light shrugged, inexplicably wanting to lighten up the mood.

“Send your bodyguards away and I’ll believe that.” Naomi gave him an expectant look, sticking her sword into the mesh holder beside the practice dummies.

Light glanced back at the stone-faced suited men at either side of the doorway behind him. The one to the right, Cal, gave him a dark look.

The brunet sighed. “I’m Kira, Misora. You know I won’t.”

“Won’t?” She cocked her head. “Or can’t?”

Light narrowed his eyes into a scathing glare. _“Won’t._ I’m not wandering around armed Tributes who obviously want me dead without protection.”

“Right.” Naomi smirked, drawing her sword again with the scrape of metal against metal. The bodyguards tensed behind him, readying themselves to intervene. “I’m not sure why you’re here then. I know you have a break room somewhere around here, go use it.”

“I…” Light dipped his head. Fuck this, he should never have approached her. What was he thinking? He was going to kill her in a few weeks, he was going to kill most of these people. He shouldn’t be trying to talk to them, get closer to them, he should be distancing himself as much as possible.

Just before he turned to leave, the brunet stopped, his hands in fists. “Misora.”

“Yes, Kira.” She hadn’t moved, her sword in her hands, her black hair loose around her face.

“I…” He closed his eyes. “I swear to you that I will not write your name.” There was a hollow pause, ringing loudly in his ears, and he spoke quickly to fill it. “Whatever happens in the arena is up to you, but I swear I won’t write your name. It’ll be a fair chance. Sayu doesn’t deserve it, s-she volunteered so if she’s not popular…she deserves it. But I-I owe you that much.”

He turned from her, walking quickly away. 

Hurriedly, Misora cleared her throat. “If you owe me that…what do you owe L?”

The teenager froze in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“If you owe _me_ that, what do you owe L, Light?”

Light shuttered his eyes, trying to slow the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. His cheeks burned as he directed his gaze at a point far in front of him.

Naomi took his silence as permission to go on. “I know you’ve been ignoring him. You should see his face, it’s like someone stomped on his heart and threw it away. He looked the same way when you first moved away, you know. He’d mope around, dragging himself around town like a lost dog. On Reaping Day, while I was busy sobbing my eyes out, L didn’t even flinch, and it was because he was going to see you. I know it was. He had accepted his fate after he volunteered for his brother, and the only bright spot left in his life was meeting you again.”

Light shook his head. “Naomi.”

“Do you know, every time Snow had to give a speech, he would stop and watch the screen with all of his attention because he could see you beside him? Or even just a couple days ago, at the City Circle. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He misses you so much. You owe him so much more than me, Light. For four years, you were inseparable-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Light’s voice was low and dangerous. “Shut the fuck up with your lies. How much more ungrateful can you get? I offer to spare your life, and in return I get lies and rumours spread about me. I don’t know L Lawliet of District 5. He is a creep with an unhealthy obsession with me. If I hear you say anything linking us again, I will withdraw your immunity and make sure you suffer for it.”

Misora was speechless, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Light turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of the room.

He thought he heard her call his name, once, twice, and give up. It was just as well. Light shook his head, dismissing his feelings and making sure tears didn’t pool in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst! Yay!
> 
> Give me some reviews! They are very very appreciated! :D


	9. Bad Luck

L Lawliet decided that enough was enough.

Kira had been attending three days of training so far. Three days of that auburn head and his black shadows bobbing about the Hall, an atmosphere of fear and despondency trailing them. Three days during which L had been cruelly snubbed, ignored, resigned to non-existence.

He watched as Kira talked to every one of the Tributes but him in that charming-yet-detached way, jotting down notes when he was done, the bodyguards glaring at anyone who got too close without explicit permission.

He’d thought up his plan on day two, after Naomi revealed to L the results of her one-on-one interaction with Light. She had doctored it a little, just in case of Capitol eavesdroppers, but the changes was obvious enough to figure out. Obviously, Light hadn’t been wowed into giving Misora an advantage because of her exemplary swordsmanship skills, and obviously, he hadn’t forgotten about L. The probability of that at this point was 0.35%.

There were two things he had noticed over the course of three days. One, there were no other guards in the entirety of the Training Hall (there was a button the guards could push only in emergency situations that would call security). And two, every day at about four p.m., Light stopped by a small adjoined room opened by a keycard when he grabbed a cup of coffee to keep him going.

L was so damn proud of his master plan. He was such a brilliant mastermind, it was no wonder he had planned on becoming the World’s Greatest Peacekeeper, it was a natural next step.

The pale man nudged Misora, giving her a sharp, quick nod as he slunk away past the racks of weapons and training arenas towards a plain grey door with a keycard slot in place of a handle. He crouched, feeling under the base of the door until, as agreed upon, his fingers brushed a smooth plastic card. He pulled it out, grinning triumphantly, and inserted it into the slot, the door sliding soundlessly open.

Inside, he laid eyes on a comfy-looking lounge, plush burgundy sofa smack-dab in the middle, a shiny metal coffeemaker standing proudly against the wall. L snuck inside, shutting the door decisively and slumping towards the sofa, diving behind it, yanking a bunch of cushions over himself for good measure.

This would do.

_Now, now we wait._

It took approximately ten minutes of squatting there with his knees pressed to his chest until the door slid open once more, thankfully to Light’s own keycard. L watched with bated breath as the lanky brunet strode in, tired caramel eyes fixed determinedly on the coffeemaker which he switched on with shaky, shivering fingers.

Had Light needed coffee this badly before? L didn’t remember it. As far as he knew, back in 5, the only obsession the two of them had to deal with was L and his sweets, a habit that was way too expensive to support (on some of his worst withdrawal days, Light had stolen some of his father’s money just to buy him a sugar cookie).

L braced himself, shifting around his cushions to coil his legs up like a spring. Unless he was to be betrayed by his new allies, his plan would be coming into effect in three…two…one…

A piercing shriek reverberated through the Training Hall, turning the heads of both guards as well as Light, who nearly dropped his paper cup. The second guard, the one with cropped black hair, turned white as a sheet. “Misa-Misa?”

L grinned. Just as planned.

“Cal? Where are you going?” The first, redheaded guard asked as Cal rushed to the door, fumbling with his keycard.

“There aren’t any guards in there. If the other tributes injure her, it’s game over for her! She’ll be dead for sure in the Games!”

“Which one is Misa again? The hot one?” The first guard scratched his ginger hair. “Yeah, doesn’t seem fair for her to lose, huh? She’s a front runner.”

Cal didn’t reply, sprinting out like a man on fire. L gave Misa props for this one, she sure knew how to flirt right.

He counted again, one, two, three, and as predicted, soon enough, Cal’s own agonised screams came echoing through the Halls, much to the other guard’s baffled disbelief. “What the fuck?” He ran to the door, patting his back pocket for his keycard and coming up short. “What the fuck is happening? My keycard is gone!”

Light pulled out his own card, tossing it to the redhead. “Here, knock yourself out. Pick me up when you’re done.” He muttered as he punched in the buttons for his coffee.

The guard caught the card in its arc through the air, still patting his pockets in vain. “Thanks, Yagami. Owe you one.” He scrambled to the slot, sticking the card in and dashing out, the door sliding locked behind him.

Light hardly seemed surprised when the second guard’s cries joined the first, probably assuming that one of them would press the emergency button L had disabled. He raised his coffee to his lips and drained it in one gulp. If he hadn’t known better, L would have assumed Light had already picked up on the plan by the absolute confidence of his stance, but he hadn’t. This confidence, it was what apathy looked like, disillusionment, indifference. Light just…didn’t care anymore. He was wilted, tired, sapped dry.

L shut his eyes. He would make Light care again. It could be his last goal before his death. If Kira tried, the revolution could succeed. His brothers would never have to stand for a reaping again. Light Yagami could be free. If only Kira had the resources and the will, he could do anything. If L knew anything about his Raito-kun, it was that he could do whatever he put his mind to.

Light chucked his empty cup into the wastebasket, sighing quietly and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited.

It was now or never.

L took a deep breath and popped out of his hiding place, loping suddenly forward just as Light’s attention snapped to him. L knew he was going to scream, so before he did, the pale man dragged him forward and flung him onto the mountain of cushions he had gathered behind the sofa. He leapt onto him and clamped his hand over his mouth, pinning his limbs down under him.

Their noses touched ever so briefly as Light screamed out anyway, his dark-honey eyes wide and catching flecks of the artificial white lighting above them. L had a smile curling his lips as he felt the other boy’s rapid breaths under his body.

His Raito-kun, so very close to him. Slim, as slender as he used to be, but never sickly like L, always glowing with health and his gorgeous good looks. That hair he had obsessed over still looked soft as satin, the same amber colour the posters in the factories had shown it to be. His Raito-kun, always watching him with that amusedly calculating gaze, as if trying his hardest to figure out his next move for the sole purpose of calling him stupid. His Raito-kun, who had been in this position on his back under him dozens of times as they wrestled in the heat of some debate, throwing punches and kicks like they had nothing to lose when both of them knew they were missing the painful spots on purpose.

His Raito-kun…who looked so afraid right now, brown eyes open wide as they stared fearfully at him, trying to wrench his hands from him as if trying to defend himself, as if L was going to hurt him. The brunet yelled again, bucking as he tried to free himself.

L tried not to feel hurt. Sure, Light was going to pretend he didn’t recognise him, but it was obviously an act. He had looked at him during the Tribute Parade, L knew he knew who he was.

Light hadn’t forgotten him, no matter how much he wanted him to think that.

“Quiet, now, Raito-kun. Nobody’s coming to help you. There aren’t any cameras in this room, and none of them picked up on me sneaking in anyway. I’m a bit of a technology expert, if you remember.” He grinned. “And I know you remember.”

Light stilled his struggles, glaring viciously up at him.

L leaned forward so that the brunet had no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “And your guards will be occupied for some time now, I made sure of that.”

“What did you do?” Light whispered under his palm, his every breath short and tickling his skin. L smiled.

“A show of district unity. Everyone wants some edge with Kira. I revealed that Naomi and Sayu have advantages to select people I believe will not act as a threat to them or spread the news. Misa Amane, Primrose Everdeen, the couple from 7 and Touta Matsuda. Though…Everdeen didn’t agree to help me, so I guess that was a waste. I’m supposed to be threatening you into giving all of us advantages right now.”

Light shut his eyes, evening out his breaths. L wished he could somehow adjust his restraining hands so that he could perhaps sweep the silky hair out of the boy’s eyes.

L was about to speak up, they didn’t really have time for extended pauses, when Light finally opened his glimmering amber eyes.

“Why aren’t you threatening me, then?”

 _Now_ L allowed himself to feel hurt. “I wasn’t aware I had to.”

Light shook his head minutely. “I’m not giving everyone advantages.”

“I know. I’m not an idiot, of course you won’t. I’ll just say you said you will, that’s all. I’m not here for an ulterior motive, Raito-kun. I’m here because I noticed that those guards never leave you alone, and…and maybe you’re not speaking to me because of it.”

There was another pause before Light met L’s eyes again, his gaze unreadable. “Let me up.”

L felt a feeling of foreboding in his stomach. He tightened his grip on the teenager. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The brunet raised his eyebrows expectantly, and L sighed. “I’m not letting you up. You’ll scream and get me in trouble.”

“I’ll get into trouble too, L, whether I’m to blame or not. Let me up.”

That statement fit in with L’s hypothesis that Kira was a prisoner. Hesitantly, L climbed off of him, nibbling his thumb nervously as he watched his friend sit up and stretch his limbs lazily. “L Lawliet.” The boy drawled, fixing him with those glittering caramel eyes. “You know, I’m actually glad you did this.”

And the next thing L knew was the taste of blood in his mouth as Light stood over him with a fierce expressions. “I’m glad you came here.” He kicked the black-haired man in the gut.

L jumped to his feet, lashing out at the brunet and sending him crashing into the sofa and crumpling to the ground, clutching his stomach. “An eye for an eye. And you’ve gotten weak, Raito-kun.”

Light hissed, grabbing his friend by the sweatshirt and dragging him down to his level, landing a punch on his jaw. “I’m glad I can show you exactly how much I hate you.” He punched him again, but L grabbed his wrist and kicked him hard in the chest.

“As much as I enjoy our brawls, Raito-kun, we don’t have time for this. I have a time limit for when the guards are coming back.”

“I don’t give a shit, Ryuuzaki.” Light snapped, pulling his wrist from the black-haired man’s grip. “I don’t give a fuck about you, do you hear me? I don’t _want_ to talk to you. I-”

On instinct, L stopped his words with his lips, holding the brunet still by a grip on the back of his neck. Light stiffened, which only prompted L to kiss him harder.

L pulled away and raised his forearm to block the punch he’d predicted was heading his way. Light’s face was flushed scarlet, jaw tight in embarrassment. “What the fuck-?”

“You called me Ryuuzaki.”

Light blushed harder. “I…I did not.” He muttered, his eyes dropping.

L grinned, feeling his own face heat up as well. “Raito-kun, I was there. I think I know what you said.”

The brunet crossed his arms. “I-it was a slip of tongue. You fucking assaulted me, I wasn’t exactly in the right mind…”

“You have forgotten that I can tell when you’re lying, Light.”

“And…and you have forgotten that…that we don’t _kiss!_ W-what the fuck is wrong with you?”

L cocked his head, studying him curiously. “Hmm. I did not expect Raito-kun to enjoy it quite so much.”

Light gaped. “Y-you fucking…creep!”

“What? If Raito-kun didn’t like it, I will never do it again, but he appears to be smiling.” L laughed when Light touched his mouth to check if he actually was. The brunet narrowed his eyes at him.

“Fuck yourself, L.”

L snorted, glad to finally be able to brush that stray hair off of Light’s forehead. “Raito-kun has forgotten about my lack of personal boundaries.”

Light rolled his eyes. “And your creepiness.”

“My social incompetence.” L smiled.

“Your general stupidity.”

“Stupidity?” L protested. “I happen to be a bona fide genius.”

Light attempted to fight the smile quirking on his face, making L feel like there was a bubble of warmth expanding in his chest. “You’re stupid, L. Every one of your actions is hopelessly stupid. It’s better if you just accept it, you’ll probably make less mistakes that way.”

The black-haired man pouted. “That hurts, Raito-kun. Especially after I crafted this brilliant plan to get you alone. Manipulation of people isn’t even my forte.”

Light’s smile faded. “You…don’t realise the consequences of this, do you?”

“There will be no consequences.” L raised his chin confidently. “I have given Misora a buzzer I constructed. When the guards save themselves or anything goes wrong, Naomi will press the buzzer and I will sneak out of the room.”

“No…not that.” Light looked away, licking his lips. “Not this plan. The last one.”

“The last one?” L frowned. “This has been my only plan since entering the Capitol. I haven’t needed another one as of now.”

“Your plan to…to get me to speak on the podium, L. You told Kira to say a few words.”

The black haired man cocked his head. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, Raito-kun. I only wanted to see you for a little longer.”

Light sighed. “See? You’re stupid. You…President Snow has a grudge against you now. He’s said something about rebels and you showing them I’m unwilling, he thinks you’re a revolutionary. You’re…you’re fucked, L. There’s nothing I can do about it. Even if I refuse to write your name, even if I die for you, you’ll still die.”

The gears whirred in L’s head. Revolutionary? Were the rebels so strong now that President Snow was worried about them? He knew the Kira supporters had always existed, but to think they had picked themselves up to such an extent…

“I’m sorry. I can’t protect you.” Light’s whisper was barely audible. “B-but I’ll try. I’ll try to protect you as long as I can, L, I swear it. A-and if I have to write your name…I’ll...I’ll make sure…” His voice died off in a croak as the brunet looked away. His eyes glimmered with tears.

L cupped the teenager’s face in his hand. “Don’t even think of allowing yourself to be hurt for my sake. Do what you need to do to survive. I will think of a plan, and if I fail, I’ve accepted my death.” L smiled. “I’m only glad I got to see you before I died.”

“L, no, I…” Light broke into a sob, clambering away from L, getting to his feet. “You shouldn’t be happy for that. I’m a murderer, L, I’ve killed so many people!”

“President Snow killed those people, Raito-kun. If you had refused, you would have died. I think that can be forgiven.”

“But-” Light was interrupted by the sudden beeping of the buzzer under L’s shirt. The pale man huffed.

“Oh well, looks like I’m going to have to leave.” He said, streaking to the door and sticking his keycard in. “We’ll talk again. Mark my words, I will talk to you as often as I can.”

“Okay. Go, get out.” Light commanded, keeping his eyes fixed on the coffee machine. L placed his hand on the door handle.

“Don’t blame yourself, Raito-kun. It’s bad luck, that’s all.”

The brunet gave L a chillingly inscrutable look. The pale man waved goodbye at the teenager and yanked the door open, slipping out and clicking it shut, discarding the keycard beside it for the guard to find whenever he did.

_Bad luck._

Maybe, if they hadn’t been so unlucky, they would never have been separated. They could have been living together, together in the slums of District 5, forever in servitude to the Capitol, in a world where Kira had never emerged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the angsttttt.
> 
> I've gotten a thing for writing long chapters nowadays, it's tiring me out XD oh well, I'm usually proud of the results so I guess I win?
> 
> Show me some love! Review and comment! :D


	10. Closet

L would never really get used to this. Waking up so late, with the sun already shining in the sky, almost into the afternoon, and not having to get ready in a rush and hurry off to a factory or two.

It had been two weeks now, and it was really ruining his sleep cycle, which was a bad thing because his sleep avoidance was one of his main advantages in the Games. After all, how would you sneak up on a tribute who never slept?

It was a good thing it was helping his muscles. In this one week of good food and plenty of rest, his muscles were gaining tone and shape, and he found that punching the tiles of the bathroom led to them actually breaking, something he hadn’t known he had had the power to do.

He wished he could punch a bathroom tile right now.

Today was the day of the Tribute Interviews. It was a hectic day, where they would first perform their best skill in front of Kira alone for him to grade, then get ready and attend an interview with the famous reality TV show host Caesar Flickerman. He supposed several people would find today fun. It was a bright, active day unlike the several days of training that had led up to this.

He wasn’t one of those people.

He was only just entering the shower when he heard his door snick open. It was probably the Avoxes with his uniform for the Kira Grade, he decided.

He had just about dismissed them, pulling off his nightshirt and throwing it on the floor (the best thing about having Avoxes was never having to clean up after himself) when he heard a voice that sent a chill down his spine.

“This is his room, isn’t it? I know it is! He never picks up his damn clothes. L, get the fuck out here!”

L’s mouth dropped open.

“L! I know you’re in here! You better not be fucking hiding, you coward!”

He edged the door open and glanced out into the room, spying the blond and ginger haired figures in Avox uniforms standing in the room, looking taller and older than when he had first seen them. Hadn’t it only been a week? The blond one shoved the hair out of his blue eyes, looking steely-eyed around for him, the tassels on his sleeve ragged with mishandling.

L’s voice was halting when he finally spoke.

“Mihael?”

* * *

It was time.

Light only knew it was time because of Rose, of course. He was forever indebted to her. After all, if he was late to the Tribute Evaluations, after his own initiative to dismiss the other Gamemakers from the judging panel, President Snow would have his head.

Not that there was anything stopping him from having his head at literally any other point, but he could at least try to stay alive.

He smoothed down his deep blue suit, knowing it made a striking combination with his auburn hair. Misa would be impressed, at least. Misa was always impressed.

He had struck up quite the romance with the District 1 tribute in his endeavour to avoid L after what had happened on their last meeting. The kiss, the damned kiss. Light had spent too many nights curled around a pillow imagining that kiss over and over.

Ryuuzaki had kissed him. Ryuuzaki, the one person he knew he loved. _Ryuuzaki, Ryuuzaki, Ryuuzaki._

Light found himself smiling like an idiot and promptly buried his face in his hands. Damn it, he had to pay attention, there were lives in the balance here. L was going to go in the Hunger Games, the deadliest event in history. He was going to face off against trained killers, only one could survive.

But Light knew that he would rather die than write Ryuuzaki’s name in the Death Note.

He didn’t care if the Gamemakers were keeping an eye on him. He didn’t care about President Snow’s orders. It was L, and that was simple as that. He wasn’t going to kill him. What a ridiculous thought.

Light touched his lips again, smiling.

“Yagami. Any reason you’re so distracted today?”

Light jumped, suddenly remembering his bodyguards standing behind him, watching him as he waited in the glass observatory for the tributes to file in one by one and display their skills to him to be graded. He turned back and gave them a polite smile.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing major.”

The redheaded one, was it Kyle? Cal? Cal marched forward, crossing his arms. “What is it, Yagami? I want to know, for my report.” The one he would send in to President Snow. Light suppressed his urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s nothing. As you know, I’ve been dating Amane Misa. I like her company, and I may be slightly distracted by that. It’s quite natural.”

Cal curled his lip. “You better stay objective about this. No giving Amane unfair advantages.”

Light’s urges shifted more towards smacking him in the face. “I won’t. I’ve dated one of them every year. Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“He’s right, Cal. Leave him alone, he’s doing fine.” The other one, Russ he believed, shrugged. “He’s Kira, the greatest serial killer in the world. He doesn’t have _emotions_ or anything.”

Light turned back to face the display, pushing away the sting of that. It was better if they thought that, of course it was. Then they couldn’t find out about Ryuuzaki…

He smiled wider, knowing they were attributing it to Misa’s seduction and rejoicing in the fact that while they could take everything from him, they could never take away the kiss he still felt on his lips.

He watched as the first tribute entered the Training Hall.

* * *

A yelp echoed in the confined space. “You _what?”_

“Shh, you fucking idiot, we’re supposed to be Avoxes and we’re fucking hiding in a closet right now, not a soundproof vault.”

“I get the point, Mihael, but your plan, it’s insane. I don’t support it…”

“Of course you don’t support it! It involves you not dying!”

“Mello…look. I don’t want to die, but it’s the best way to keep you safe-”

“L! You fucking asshole! I won’t be safe if you die! You’re my only family, you bastard, I’m not letting you die!”

“Mello…” A sigh. “Matt, explain to him. Or are you convinced by this plan as well?”

A third voice piped up. “Well…Watari was very convincing.”

“You don’t know any of these people, Matt! Mello, come on! You’re smarter than this. They have ensured that the only necks being risked are yours, all for their agenda.”

“It’s Watari, L. Mello and I have it under control. Just answer this: can you do what we need you to do? Is it possible?”

“I don’t know, Matt.”

“You can, you fucking asshole. You’re L, you can do anything! If you do this we don’t have to do anything risky, that’s what you want, right?”

“It’ll still be risky! All of this, you being here acting like Avoxes is risky enough! Don’t you realise they could have you killed for this?”

“I don’t care and neither does Matt. It’s better dead than alive as slaves whose brothers get taken away to be executed for no reason.”

“That’s not true, Mello. If you die, who will take care of Near?”

“Near can go screw himself. Tell me you can do what we asked.”

“Mello…”

“Please, Mr. Lawliet. I know you don’t support this, but Mello and I really do want to fight for this. I know we’re young, but District 13-”

“Shh!”

“Sorry. You get what I’m saying, though, don’t you? If you’re able to do this…”

A sigh. “Alright. I’ll see. It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s just…I know he loves me. I know he does, just as I love him.” A pause. “I just don’t know which side he’s on, or if he’s on a side at all.”

* * *

“Where is he?”

Light fidgeted, his hands clasped tightly together in his lap as he chewed on his lip. President Snow stood at his shoulder, gripping it tight enough for it to feel like he was readying himself to strangle him. “Where is he? This is unprecedented! I am of half a mind to say that this tribute is more trouble than Katniss Everdeen herself!”

Light dipped his head, turning scarlet. “I wouldn’t say that, sir. Katniss Everdeen started a rebellion, L has hardly-”

“L, is it? You are on first name basis, aren’t you?” The President hissed. “Then tell me, did he tamper with the cameras? Is that how we have no recordings of the hours he has been missing from his room? Where has he hidden? I have never, in all my years of presidency, had to send a search party to find a tribute!”

The brunet shifted away from him, displacing the restricting hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know where he is. Maybe he got lost. It is a large building...”

The door into the observatory burst open and the head Peacekeeper of the Capitol, Octopus Octavius, strode inside purposefully, bowing to President Snow.

“He has been found.”

Light couldn’t help his heart skipping a beat. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. So he hadn’t gotten away, so he wasn’t safe. His throat closed up and he felt his face redden.

President Snow’s tone was smug. “Where was he?”

Octavius smiled. “He was in a closet with two Avoxes. They were in a rather compromising position. He claims lust took over him and he lost track of time.”

It took a minute for that to sink in, and Light felt like a sledgehammer had been swung at his heart.

“The Avoxes have been dismissed, of course, sent to the sewers. What should be done with the tribute?”

He felt Snow’s reptilian eyes on him, but the most he could do was blank his expression. He sat with his muscles tense, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor as he tried not to think.

This…had to be a plan, right? He…he wouldn’t really do that. He wouldn’t. He was Ryuuzaki, he didn’t do that sort of thing.

Snow’s voice, infuriatingly, held the shadow of a smile.

“Let him go. He has interviews in an hour, he should get ready. As he never turned up, his evaluation score shall be zero, shall it not, Light?”

The brunet nodded.

“Yeah. Zero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wrote this chapter in a hurry so I MAY come back and re-edit it if I feel the need to.
> 
> I'm glad I finally decided to update this XD
> 
> Review and comment! :D


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